


Come to Me

by magistrainartis



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dom/sub, M/M, Master/Slave, Orgy, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-03-12 05:07:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3344714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magistrainartis/pseuds/magistrainartis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Hawke's help, Fenris works through difficult memories of sharing his Master's bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Episode 1

"Come to me, my wolf."

As commanded, Fenris entered Danarius' bedchamber and stood before his master. The door closed quietly behind him as a servant slipped out of the room, leaving the man and his slave alone. Fenris kept his head lowered and his gaze fixed on the carpets at his feet.

"Disrobe."

The elf obeyed without hesitation, first loosening the belt of his slave's robe before sliding the garment from his shoulders. Out of respect for his master's property, he folded the robe carefully and laid it over a nearby chair. He then slipped his small clothes over his hips, folded them as well, and, head still bowed, stood nude before his master.

"Raise your eyes, pet."

Fenris took a deep breath and released it slowly before meeting Danarius' eyes. Only in this room was he given permission to make eye contact with his master, and it was still unsettling after two years.

Danarius removed his outer robe and moved toward his slave. He reached out to Fenris' chest to stroke the markings etched in his skin. Fenris reflexively stiffened, but thankfully kept himself from flinching. Even so, Danarius held his outspread, empty hands before his slave.

"No knives. No instruments. No pain. Do you forget so quickly, Fenris?"

"No, Master. Forgive me."

Danarius smiled. "Good boy.” He reached out again to run his hands along the marks on his slave’s upper arms. “It's been too long since I've enjoyed your body. Come, now; lie down. Rest and enjoy your reward."

Fenris felt a pleasant heaviness gathering in his groin. Relieved to be permitted sexual touch after three long weeks, he approached his master's bed and lay on his stomach. When he felt Danarius' hand on his right hip, the slave lifted himself from the mattress so his master could place two cushions beneath his waist. He was now positioned comfortably, his hips raised and his head cushioned by silken pillows.

After a moment, Fenris felt the familiar sensation of warm oil being poured over his lower back. His master's hands followed, spreading the fluid over his flesh. The balls of Danarius’ palms pressed into Fenris’ muscles, releasing their tightness. Danarius then smoothed the oil over the elf's exposed buttocks, spreading them gently before caressing his thighs and calves. Aided by the wine he'd been served with his evening meal, Fenris allowed his body to relax into the cushions. His master's firm, patient caresses soothed his muscles and his mind. There were no expectations of him now, no demands beyond that he rest and enjoy his master's attentions. Danarius' fingers traced Fenris' markings, following their curve along his hips to the tendrils extending to curl around his flanks and trail down his thighs. There was no pain, not even the memory of pain, as the slave utterly submitted to his master's touch.

Fenris' erection pressed hard against the cushions by the time Danarius began to knead and stroke his buttocks. Beginning at the bottom of the elf’s cleft, Danarius worked his hands upwards, spreading his slave to expose his tight opening. Fenris felt his master’s right hand firmly press against the small of his back. Warm soothing magic radiated from Danarius' hand and spread through Fenris' lower back, deep into his body, and through to his abdomen. The warmth soothed any discomfort or resistance as Fenris felt Danarius' oil-slick finger probe his entrance.

As Danarius slipped his finger inside his slave's body, Fenris moaned softly with need. He rocked his hips, desperate to feel friction against his pulsing shaft, but Danarius pressed his body back to the cushion. "No, my pet. Not yet. Hush. Not yet." His voice became soothing as he inserted a second finger.

Danarius continued to murmur to his slave as his fingers probed and stretched the elf's passage. Fenris obediently kept his groin pressed to the cushion beneath him, but used his muscles to milk his master’s fingers, coaxing them deeper into his body. Each time his master prepared his body for penetration, Fenris felt honored, treasured, valuable. This was the closest he would ever come to being intimate with a lover, and he relished every moment of pleasure his master deemed him worthy to receive.

Fenris was desperate for more than just his master’s fingers when he felt Danarius move away from the bed and heard his remaining clothing fall to the floor. Powerful hands grasped Fenris and turned him onto his back, hips still raised invitingly. Fenris’ cock lay rigid against his stomach as his master mounted him. Danarius pressed his erection against his slave's, and Fenris moaned aloud.

"What would you ask of your master, Fenris?" Danarius stroked his manhood against the elf's.

Fenris’ voice was hoarse with desperation. "Please Master, please enter me. I need to feel you inside me. Please…please, Master."

Danarius smiled as his fingertips brushed his slave's sides. He grasped Fenris' lower legs and rocked them toward his shoulders before lowering his head to stare into the slave's emerald eyes. Danarius positioned himself and pushed forward, entering slowly. His cock pushed past the tight ring of muscle at Fenris' entrance, and inch by inch he claimed the elf's body with his own. Fenris held Danarius' gaze, knowing that his master loved to watch the mixture of trepidation and lust filling his eyes as he was penetrated.

When he felt his master's testicles come to rest against him, Fenris reached up to grasp Danarius' shoulders. Danarius held still, savoring the sensation of the elf's maneuvers to better accommodate the shaft inside him. After a moment, Danarius began to rock his hips, the maintained eye contact asserting his dominance as surely as the phallus slowly pumping within his slave. With each thrust, Danarius slid his oiled hand along Fenris' erection. Each pass made the elf moan deep in his throat. Fenris crossed his ankles around Danarius' back, opening himself so his master could penetrate more deeply.

When Danarius brushed the head of his cock against the seat of Fenris' deepest pleasure, Fenris' moans turned to cries. He raised his hips to meet Danarius' hand and grasped at his master’s back, silently begging him to increase his pace. Instead, Danarius pulled out, making Fenris involuntarily gasp with objection.

"What do you need, little wolf?" Covered in oil and flushed with desire, Fenris raised himself to look into his master's icy eyes.

"Please, Master, I need you to fuck me. I need you to pump me full of your seed. I need-" Danarius cut off his slave, throwing him back against the cushions and roughly forcing himself inside the younger man. Fenris arched his back and clutched the sheets as his master rutted him. Danarius bent low over his slave, pounding his cock into the elf like a wild animal breeding its mate. With a choked groan, Danarius gripped Fenris’ legs, and Fenris felt his master’s cock jerk and pulse inside him. As he released a flood of semen into his slave's willing body, Danarius grasped Fenris' shaft and furiously stroked its length. Within seconds, Fenris groaned and gritted his teeth as his seed spilled into his master's hand and over his own stomach.

Exhausted, Fenris turned his head into the pillows. He breathed deeply, expecting to smell oil and lavender. Instead, he smelled line-dried cotton, armour polish, and, somehow, a faint scent of mabari.

This was not Tevinter.

With a sharp breath, Fenris sat upright in bed, awakened from his too-familiar dream. Hawke, not Danarius, lay naked beside him, looking at him cautiously.

“Alright?” Hawke asked. Fenris lay back down, sighed, and turned toward his lover.

“Just the dream.” Fenris moved closer to Hawke, then kissed him slowly, his tongue probing the larger man’s mouth. He moved his right hand down Hawke’s body until it reached his stiffening sex. Hawke broke the kiss briefly. “Now? You’re sure?”

“Very.”

Hawke moved atop Fenris to kiss along his collarbone as he ground his hips against his lover’s. Fenris responded easily. He might never be rid of the dream, but, thanks to Hawke, he could at least be free of it.


	2. Episode 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter moves between Fenris/Hawke's present and Fenris' past. Time transitions are marked with ***

Hawke shifted, testing his arms' range of movement as Fenris worked on the bonds around his ankles. Fenris paused long enough to assure himself Hawke was comfortable before securing his legs to the bed's. Satisfied, he stepped back to admire the naked man spread before him. Each of Hawke's muscles gleamed with the oil Fenris had massaged into them. When he'd begun, Fenris' concern had been to help Hawke relax - to help him give in to the control Hawke himself was usually accustomed to wielding in bed. Fortunately, it hadn't taken long for Hawke to settle into the bed and allow Fenris' touch to calm him. Hawke knew how hard Fenris had worked to claim a sense of control over his memories of sexual slavery; if Fenris needed to dominate tonight, Hawke was glad to oblige. 

The ropes had been unexpected. Trusting that Fenris would free him immediately if he was uncomfortable or afraid, Hawke didn't object when his lover began gently winding the restraints around his wrists, then his ankles. Now, Hawke lay firmly tied, exposed to Fenris' gaze and touch. Fenris ran his hands over Hawke's chest, anticipating the pleasures he would give and deny this now-defenseless warrior.

***

Fenris had known the night would be different when the wine began affecting him. Unlike the other slaves, usually young men who'd never shared another man's bed, Fenris had never needed a sedating potion before being called to his master's bed. But this time, only a few sips of wine had clouded his mind. His muscles released their tension and his breathing slowed; he felt no fear of what the night would bring. Within minutes, Danarius came to Fenris' side, placed one hand between the elf's shoulder blades and the other on his right bicep, and wordlessly steered him through the house. Fenris relaxed under his master's guidance, trusting that soon his obedience would be rewarded with pleasure.

Fenris found himself led to a firelit chamber. The room held no bed; instead, Danarius led him to a table that had been well-padded and upholstered in crimson leather. The drug pressing on Fenris' mind muted his initial twinge of panic as flashes of another room, another table, seared his mind. Danarius allowed the moment to pass before removing Fenris' garments and lifting him onto the table. The leather was cool against Fenris' back and buttocks, but became supple and soft beneath him as his body warmed the material. 

Fenris sighed as he felt the familiar sensation of his master's hands smoothing oil over his body. Still silent, Danarius massaged each of his slave's limbs, paying special attention to his hands and feet. When no tension remained, Danarius moved behind Fenris, out of his sight. When he felt his master slip a looped cord over his left wrist, Fenris understood why he'd been drugged. The potion soothed any anxiety or resistance as Danarius bound his slave to the table. Cords smooth as silk wrapped around Fenris' wrists, then up his arms to pin them at his sides. With deft, quick movements, Danarius secured the ropes across Fenris' chest. The elf's upper body was immobilized when Danarius separated his legs to bind each to a separate hinged appendage. When they were firmly bound, Danarius raised and spread Fenris' legs wide. His genitals now fully exposed and vulnerable, Fenris helplessly, eagerly, awaited his master's touch.

***

Fenris fluidly straddled Hawke's waist, wrapped his fingers through Hawke's hair, and kissed his mouth insistently. As his tongue plundered his lover's mouth, Fenris stroked his erection against Hawke's. Hawke moaned as he bucked against the restraints. His entire being wanted to grab Fenris, flip him onto his back, and make him writhe with passion. Fenris' eyes flashed and he smiled wickedly at Hawke's frustration. As quickly as he'd mounted, he slipped off and moved between Hawke's legs, close enough so Hawke could feel Fenris' breath against his shaft but denying Hawke the contact he desperately sought.

Fenris let Hawke struggle for a few moments. Even when Hawke eventually relaxed, his penis lay red and throbbing against his stomach. Fenris gave himself a moment to enjoy the sights and sounds of Hawke panting and writhing softly against the sheets. His own erection demanding attention, Fenris stroked himself as he again approached Hawke, this time to lick and suck the scars marking his lover's torso. Not one silver-pink line escaped Fenris' mouth as he worked his way down Hawke's body. When he reached the cut of Hawke's groin, Fenris lifted his head to blow cool air across his erection. Hawke cursed, but didn't struggle for fear Fenris would stop. 

Satisfied his lover was in enough torment, Fenris gently kissed the head of Hawke's shaft. His tongue flicked the cleft along the head's base, making Hawke groan with need. Fenris slid his lips over the head and slowly, deliberately took Hawke's length into his mouth. He moved his head upward just as slowly, then down again, the sounds of his suckling mixing with Hawke's moans.

***

Fenris' hips writhed against their restraints as Danarius pulled his mouth away. Being sucked by his master was a pleasure Fenris had never dreamed of, let alone experienced, and he had been within seconds of spilling his seed down Danarius' throat. Unable to touch himself or to gain friction of any kind was maddening, but the ropes pinned him tight. Danarius smiled as he again moved out of Fenris' line of sight. When he came back into view, he bore a tray containing various wooden and stone objects. In his haze, it took Fenris a moment to recognize the shapes. The finely crafted wooden phalluses and smooth stone anal plugs laid ready for Danarius' selection. 

Aware that Fenris watched his every movement, Danarius took his time in choosing. He toyed with his slave, holding up a wooden cylinder twice the size of his own erection and far bigger than anything he knew Fenris could endure. Fenris relaxed only when his master gave him a knowing smile before choosing a far smaller obsidian plug. Fenris could raise his head high enough to watch his master move between his widespread legs and smooth oil onto the plug. He felt more oil being applied to his entrance, then pressure as Danarius laid the plug against his opening. Danarius was patient as Fenris instinctively resisted the physical intrusion before relaxing, then pushing against it. The plug entered smoothly, anchored by a base which held it firmly in place. 

Unable to close his legs or grind himself against the object within his body, Fenris used his rectal muscles to work the plug inside him. His master stepped back to enjoy the sight of his slave's body drawing the plug deeper inside his passage, then pushing against it. Danarius pressed his palm to the plug's base and ground the device inside the elf, making his cock jerk against his stomach. Fenris cried out as Danarius grasped his erection and stroked it firmly, all the while pressing the plug within him. Within seconds, Fenris felt his orgasm building. He was on the very brink when Danarius removed his hand from his shaft. Fenris screamed in frustration and pulled at his restraints as Danarius extracted the plug and stood back from the table. 

Fenris' entire body resisted its bondage as Danarius calmy removed his clothing. Only when Fenris could no longer hold back angry tears did his master approach, position himself, and thrust inside his slave. 

***

Fenris released Hawke's ankles and drew up his calves to rest on Fenris' shoulders. He positioned his oiled cock against the entrance he'd prepared so patiently. 

***

Fragments. Mixed cries of pain and lust. The slave's body ravished and his erection pumped. Ragged groans as his master sprayed inside him and his own semen poured over Danarius' hand.

***

Green eyes met brown. A breathless nod of assent. Fenris' body found its way home.

~~~

"Come to me, my conquering warrior," Hawke teased as he pulled Fenris close. Fenris scowled, but didn't pull away. The two lay together in silence for a moment, the sound of their breathing and the smell of their sex filling the room. Hawke pressed a kiss to Fenris' forehead. "You're alright?" Fenris nodded. "Working through a memory, I take it?"

"Yes. One I don't care to share." Annoyed at his inability to shake off his defences, Fenris held Hawke tight. "I love you. Thank you for this."

Hawke blew out the lantern, drew the covers over their bodies, and wrapped his arms around his lover. Fenris drifted into sleep, released.


	3. Episode 3

"Do you remember what you said to me the first night we met?" Fenris twisted so he could see Hawke's face. Hawke laid down his wine glass and pulled Fenris closer so the elf's back rested against his chest.

"Something about you being covered in tattoos? About your spiky armour? About you not seeming too worried about living in a mansion that was falling apart and littered with corpses?"

"Perhaps, but not exactly what I was thinking of."

"I flirted with you, didn't I? How awkward was it? I'm impressed you didn't run away screaming." Hawke's smile was playful as he bent his head to nibble Fenris' ear.

"You did flirt with me - Hawke, for the love of the Maker get your teeth away from my ear - and it was horribly awkward. You called me handsome."

Hawke turned his attention to Fenris' neck, speaking between love bites. "I called you handsome and it was uncomfortable? Good thing I didn't tell you I wanted to strip you naked and fuck you senseless."

"You're going to lose those teeth if you keep going." Hawke nuzzled Fenris' shoulder, but contented himself with kisses. "It was the first time I'd ever been called handsome. Like a man, not a plaything."

Fenris' voice had taken on a far-off quality. Hawke held him tight as he stared into the fire and began to talk of his past.

***  
"Such a pretty thing." Danarius ran his hands over the young elf's trembling body. Where his fingers touched the fresh markings, the lyrium contained within blazed brightly. The elf flinched at each touch, but didn't resist his master. He'd bitterly accepted his amnesia in the few days he'd been permitted to rest after the ritual that had scarred his body. From here on, he knew he'd be expected to obey and serve his master without question, regardless of pain or confusion.

Danarius took his time inspecting his work; he ran his hands over the edges of each branch that extended over the slave's body and pressed his palms against the largest sections to feel the magic pulsing beneath the skin. By the time he was satisfied the ritual had been successful, the slave was weak and shaking on his feet. The elf expected his master to berate or strike him; instead, he was easily picked up and carried to a nearby bedchamber. He couldn't keep himself from gasping at the room's sheer richness. When Danarius laid him on the bed, the elf sank into its mattress - a strange feeling compared to the straw pallet on which he normally slept. The luxurious bedding was soft and warm against his naked skin, and he relaxed into its comfort.

When his master presented him with a vial, the elf drank gladly. "Good boy. The pain is a necessity, but I don't see why you need to bear it while you lie in my bed." Even as his master spoke, the slave felt the pain seep from his body. He nearly wept with relief.

Danarius smiled, not unkindly. "Better. You need a little more healing, but soon I'll teach you to wield the power I've bestowed on you." He stroked the elf's hair from his eyes. "A new pet, a new name. Fenris. Do you know what it means?"

The elf shook his head. "No, Master."

"It means 'little wolf.' You will be vicious for me. You will intimidate my rivals and take the lives of anyone who dares threaten me or my place in the Magisterium." As he spoke, Danarius traced the markings on the elf's chest, down his stomach, and onto his groin. "Tell me your name."

The elf's breathing quickened as his mind raced. His master was going to take his body. He had no choice. He shouldn't want this. But Danarius' touch felt so good, so comforting. He felt his penis twitching as his master's fingers grazed his thighs. When Danarius cupped his genitals gently in his hand, the elf sighed with pleasure. "Fenris. My name is Fenris, Master."

"Will you be an obedient and willing slave, Fenris?" Danarius took the elf's penis in his hand and expertly stroked it to erection.

"Yes, Master. I am willing, Master." Fenris moved his hips in time with Danarius' strokes. When Fenris' face was flushed and his lips had parted with anticipation, Danarius rose and removed his own clothing. Fenris' breath caught in his throat. His master caught the panicked gleam in his slave's eye. "Do you like men, Fenris?"

"Yes, Master, I do." Fenris hesitated, but was fearful of withholding information. "I also like women, Master."

Danarius seemed pleased. "An unexpected bonus. It should be easier for you to please me, and perhaps we'll look at breeding you once you've shown your potential." 

Danarius covered Fenris' body with his own. "And you're virgin. For all intents and purposes, at any rate." Fenris didn't resist his master's mouth as it descended on his own. His tongue shyly flicked Danarius' as his master licked and sucked at his mouth. The sensation was unexpectedly thrilling; the pure dominance of the man atop him and the slow insistence with which Danarius kissed him inflamed Fenris' lust. As he felt his master grow hard against him, Fenris returned the kisses feverishly. If he was to serve his master in this way, he would do so gladly in order to gain such pleasure.

Danarius rose from the bed, leaving Fenris panting and desperate for more. The master's own face was flushed now, and his need was clear. He unstopped a bottle, poured oil into his hands, and smoothed the liquid over Fenris' erection and sac. His long fingers then traced a path to the elf's entrance, where he pressed a slickened finger.

"There will be pain, young slave," Danarius crooned as he worked Fenris' opening, "but you will always know pleasure in my bed." Danarius raised Fenris' ankles and positioned himself at the elf's virgin hole. "Do you submit to your Master?" 

Fenris raised himself to meet Danarius' eyes. "I submit, Master. Your slave submits."

Slowly, cautiously, Danarius pressed the head of his cock inside his slave. Fenris gasped with pain; Danarius allowed him to adjust to this new form of domination before pushing his full length inside Fenris' passage. Struggling to remain passive and obedient, Fenris writhed beneath his Master. His body felt impossibly stretched and filled. With slow, sure strokes, Danarius maintained Fenris' erection as he tried to adjust to the man inside him.

"Good boy, Fenris. You're being a very good boy. Do you like being filled with your Master's cock?"

Fenris groaned, "Yes, Master."

"Would you like me to make you come, Fenris?"

"I want only what you want, Master. I want to be a good slave for you."

Danarius began to pump slowly within his slave. "Good boys get to shoot their seed onto their bellies. Would you like that, Fenris?"

Fenris' breath came ragged now; the pain inside his channel contrasted against the pleasure Danarius drew from his body with each stroke of his penis. "Yes, I would like to come, Master."

"You _are_  a good boy. Would you like Master to put his seed inside you? I shoot a great deal of semen, Fenris. It will drip from you slowly, to remind you what your Master did to your body. To remind you who controls your body." Danarius' pace increased at the very thought of claiming the elf with his seed. "Tell me, Fenris," he growled.

Desperate for release, Fenris obeyed. With his head thrown back and his voice hoarse with need, he rasped, "I want you to come inside me, Master. I want to carry your seed inside me. I want to feel it leak from my body to remind me that my Master's body is as strong as his magic. Please come inside your pet, Master..." Fenris' voice trailed off as Danarius pumped frantically inside him. His world shrank to the pain of his master's sex, his own pulsing cock, and the stroking hand that offered pleasure and release.

With a groan, Fenris reached orgasm. Ropes of cum white as his markings spurted onto his stomach and chest; Danarius dragged his hands through the shining liquid as he ground himself to the hilt and shot his own semen into the slave.

Spent, Danarius withdrew his softening penis and surveyed the sated slave. "Yes, you'll do well, my beautiful Fenris. Come with me, now. Your markings need a little healing along the edges."

As Fenris stood, he felt his master's semen leak from him. All hopes of escape and revenge that he'd dreamed of in the days since the ritual vanished. When Danarius had dressed, Fenris followed him without objection.

***  
As he finished speaking, Fenris once again became aware of Hawke's arms around his chest. "From that first time, he described me only in terms usually reserved for pets. When I met you, I'd been demeaned for so long - demeaned myself for so long - that I'd forgotten what it meant to be addressed as a person, not an object. For you to treat me like a man that night...I didn't even know how to react."

Hawke moved around Fenris to face him and drew the elf into his lap. He studied Fenris for a moment: no tears, no anger, no need for comfort. Just the trust of a man sharing the most intimate details of his life with someone he loved. In that case...

"I can treat you like a man now, if you like." Hawke grinned as he reached to stroke Fenris through his trousers.

Fenris feigned exasperation, but leaned in to kiss his lover. His past was quickly laid aside for Hawke's body and for his own desires.


	4. Episode 4

Suddenly oblivious to the laughter, chatter, and drunken conversation around him, Fenris followed the two strangers with his peripheral vision. Humans, but not mages. Carefully styled hair, brightly-coloured clothing, a tone of voice that was at once elegant and condescending - Tevinters, without doubt. But not mages. Not mages.

The men seemed pleased with themselves as they settled at the adjacent table with their pints of ale and bowls of stew. Their sweeping glances took in the other patrons and at once categorized them: peasants, rabble, and criminals. Just the kind of people by whom these men would want to be surrounded on a night of slumming in Kirkwall. Maker only knew what had brought them to the city, but it was clear they intended to go home with tales of their adventures in the seedier side of the Free Marches.  
  
"Aha!” Fenris was jarred back to the game by Isabela's triumphant shout. She swept the coin - much of it Fenris' - from the table and into her purse. "That was outright embarrassing, elf. It would pain me to take this from you if I didn't know half of it's probably Hawke's. He's got enough to keep you in Wicked Grace until you're both slaughtered by dragons or some other beastie." Mischievousness gleamed in Isabela's eyes as she teased.

Fenris shrugged. "I like to let my quarry build up false hope before going in for the kill. Deal again."  
  
Two hands later, Fenris was no farther ahead. As the Tevinters got drunker, they got louder. At first, their comments and lewd jokes were merely an irritation. But as more tankards gathered on the table, the men's comments became cruder and their actions bolder. Their young elven server was out of her depth. As she tried to clear the empty cups, one man grabbed her wrist.  
  
"Working for crumbs here, my dear? You'd fetch a good price for the right master back home. Imagine, no mouths to feed, no rent to pay, and all you have to do is lie back and take it like a good elvish bitch."  
  
Fenris pushed back his chair and was on his feet in an instant. He would have happily taught the men how quickly bones can be splintered if Varric hadn't snapped, " _Elf_. Not here."  
  
Fenris closed his eyes, took a breath, and sat back down. It was the one rule Varric insisted on before he'd dealt Fenris his very first hand of cards: no fighting inside The Hanged Man, for any reason. Fenris mentally reminded himself to keep back some coin from the table so he could slip it to the elven server, who had bustled away to hide in the kitchen.

As his luck kept declining, Fenris' jaw clenched and re-clenched. The Tevinters had transferred their attention to another young woman, and their constant coarse suggestions grated Fenris' nerves.  
  
"Stop your grimacing, Fenris. You're being soundly beaten by an expert cardswoman, and there's no shame in that," Isabela said cheerfully. "If those Tevinter arseholes are too loud, the waitress can tell them to shut up. I quite enjoy hearing their offers, even if they only have teeny tiny pricks," she shot the men a withering glance before continuing. "You Tevinters know all kinds of exquisite carnal delights. I bet you've spent more than one night stretched out on a table like dessert after dinner, being lapped up by beautiful men and women who'd taken off their beautiful clothes..." Isabela trailed off with a sigh, lost in her own fantasy.  
  
Fenris was more than accustomed to Isabela's imagination - in fact, he worried about her when she stopped teasing him for stretches of time. But this night, he'd had enough wine and lost enough coin to fire back.  
  
"Absolutely right. I did spend a few nights spread out for a group of guests. Ever had that done to you, Isabela? Had your clothes stripped off and forced to tend to as many people who wanted to take you? Not that you'd need to be forced - you'd ask them to fuck you again just so you could get the details right when you regaled your drinking companions about the time you were ravished by a roomful of strangers."  
  
The words had shot out like bolts, and there was no taking them back now that he'd gone too far. Isabela's mouth hung open with shock. Varric's forehead was furrowed with a concern that wrenched Fenris' gut and made his lip curl. He stared at his cards without seeing them as a glance flicked between his companions. He faintly registered Varric getting up from the table to have a few words with a youngster who ran from the tavern immediately after. Fenris just stared downward, the faces on the cards as foreign as the many faces years before.  
  
***  
Silver silk rustled against his skin as the slave was turned in a slow circle. The gathered mages made the usual sounds of appreciation and wonderment as he rotated, his markings gleaming in the candlelight. He was not yet naked, but wore only a pair of silk trousers - tight through the groin so his genitals were clearly outlined, then flaring wide from his hips. Danarius' hands gripped his shoulders as he finished displaying his masterpiece, his grasp a reminder that Fenris was to be on his best behaviour in front of his master's peers.  
  
As they applauded politely, the guests murmured among themselves.  
  
"Remarkable craftsmanship."  
  
"When will he let us touch the elf?"  
  
"How much for a whole night alone with him, do you think?"  
  
Fenris was all too familiar with such comments, such longings. Danarius thrilled in trotting him out before the sycophants and rivals he invited to dinner every midsummer. In the first year, Fenris had only to pour the wine and glower menacingly to intimidate the guests and assert his master's strength. As the years passed, however, and as Danarius took as much interest in Fenris' sex as in his strength, he began displaying his slave as a work of art rather than a wolf on a leash. The desired effect was not only achieved, but strengthened. Danarius' guests were equal parts intimidated by the elf's beauty and the master's skill. And now Danarius had an additional tool at his disposal: using the promise of Fenris' body to bring weak mages under his control and to keep influential magisters satisfied.  
  
"Good boy, Fenris," Danarius crooned into the elf's ear. "We've excited everyone in the room. How wonderful for you to be so desired. Don’t you agree?"  
  
Fenris swallowed hard. "Yes, Master. Thank you." He kept his voice from shaking. Such comments from Danarius usually meant Fenris would endure a great deal before the night would end.  
  
Even through his fear, Fenris took comfort from his master’s touch. As he accepted the other mages’ compliments and haughtily responded to their questions, Danarius grasped Fenris’ right shoulder firmly with one hand while stroking his back with the other. Danarius formed the only familiar island in a sea threatening to overtake Fenris’ courage, and he clung to the knowledge that, no matter what would happen in this room, he would spend the night safe in his master’s bed.  
  
With a flourish of his hand, Danarius dimmed the hundreds of candles scattered about the dining hall. The room had been brightly lit to better display Fenris’ markings. Now, shadows crept from every corner. Fenris was led from the dais on which he’d been presented and into the waiting crowd. Danarius maintained contact with the slave as he led Fenris through the hall. As he passed each group of guests, Fenris heard the murmurs increase. The dim lighting and the promise of what was to come electrified the air as whispers, nervous giggles, and hums of approval buzzed through the room.  
  
As expected, Fenris found himself led to a chaise near the fireplace at the back of the hall. What had earlier been a cozy seating area meant for polite conversation over pre-dinner wine now felt like a wolves’ den in which Fenris was not predator, but prey. The younger mages held back to shyly watch Fenris settle himself onto the chaise. The older magisters nearer the fireplace exchanged glances and chuckled as the elf reclined and the silken trousers stretched tightly over his bulge. Danarius stood beside his slave, and with a gesture and a nod of the head, he invited his guests to partake of his hospitality.  
  
A tray filled with delicate silver vials made its way around the room. Each guest drank - some hesitantly and some eagerly. Cheeks flushed and eyes flashed. Danarius took two vials: one to tip down his own throat and the other to press to Fenris’ lips. The elf drank gladly. By making his own desires flare to match the mages’, this potion would help him get through the night unbroken.

As always, the first touches were chaste. A woman approached and trailed her fingers along the markings on Fenris’ chest. Although cautious, her touch felt like fire along the marks. Fenris flinched, not out of pain, but from knowing a small display of weakness would further entice the crowd and, by extension, would please his master. Pride flashed in the magistra’s eyes for the briefest second, but it was long enough to charge the room with a sense of power. This warrior, this mighty creature blood magic had raised from the basest material, was not untouchable, not unfeeling. Every mage in the room wanted to display the ability to draw sensation from Danarius’ prized possession.  
  
The woman backed away as a man stepped forward. He, too, began by pressing his palm to Fenris’ chest, but the potion, the lighting, and the atmosphere had done their work. The magister’s hand did not stop at the marks on Fenris’ stomach, but continued down to press against, then cup the elf through the thin layer of silk. The mage took his time stroking the elf through the fabric. The warmth of the stranger’s hand and the dull fire the potion had stoked in his veins worked their magic, and Fenris let himself sink into the chaise’s cushions as his body responded to the magister’s touch. There was no hiding his pleasure as he hardened against the already-tight fabric, which now outlined his manhood for the guests’ viewing pleasure.  
  
Conscious that each guest would want a turn with his slave, Danarius dismissed the magister with a nod. As soon as the man had merged back into the group, another had taken his place. This time, there was no hesitation. A young man’s mouth licked and sucked at Fenris’ crotch, soaking the fabric so it clung to the elf’s body like a second skin. Fenris closed his eyes and groaned. If he focused, he could imagine that the room contained only himself and his master – that it was Danarius’ tongue lapping his body, not the fumbling mouth of an eager young man. The mage ran his tongue along Fenris’ length without skill or care, but the slave’s desperation for pleasure made him hard as stone by the time Danarius pushed the young man aside with a grimace. Fenris moaned with desire as his erection throbbed against the wet silk, desperate for release.  
  
Mocking laughter erupted in the middle of the room as a handsome black-haired youth was pushed forward. The mage may have been the only one in the room uninterested in the festivities; disgust was written clearly on his face. His face twisted as he stormed from the room, chased soon after by a magister who could only have been his father. Fenris almost felt for the mage who would certainly receive a lecture about the importance of social gatherings to climb the ladder of snakes that was the Magisterium. Almost. There was little room for sentiment in a room full of wolves.  
  
The mood shifted; the mages closed in. No one left in the room wanted to share the young mage’s humiliation by refusing the offer Danarius had laid before them. Two men pounced on Fenris; one held his shoulders against the chaise while the other slashed away the silken trousers with a cutting motion and a quick spell. His head was jerked back, and the first mage’s robes were thrown aside to reveal his pulsing erection. As he felt the second mage’s mouth descending to engulf his cock, Fenris took the first man’s full length into his throat. He’d been trained well; his tongue worked the mage’s shaft as his throat muscles constricted, but he didn't gag. The mage groaned as he pulled back to allow Fenris to suck the head of his shaft. Obligingly, the elf flicked his tongue around the head and teased the cleft beneath. His own cock was finally receiving attention from a man who knew what he was doing. The mage sucked with long slow bobs of his head. Fenris felt he would explode when the man moved aside to allow the main event to begin.  
  
Dozens of robes hit the floor as the assembled mages succumbed to their desires. As breasts were groped and cocks were stroked, more and more of his master's guests surrounded Fenris. He couldn't see those gathered between his legs; his vision was obscured by the two men whose erections jabbed at his face while he tried to pleasure them both. Multiple mouths now sucked at his groin. His legs were raised so that his testicles could be licked and sucked as tongues probed his anus. An inserted finger probed the gland deep inside his body, and Fenris moaned around the cock in his mouth as he released his first seed of the night.  
  
The younger mages, unable to hold back, rutted each other while waiting for their turn with the slave. At a touch from Danarius, the men around Fenris' head shifted so the slave could watch the pumping, bouncing, sucking guests. The view stoked Fenris' desire once more, and again his cock lay flat and hard against his stomach.  
  
Danarius motioned to a man who had, until now, waited patiently in a nearby chair. The magister shucked his robes as he approached the slave. With a smooth movement, he accepted a vial of oil and poured it over his hands and his erection. He brushed aside the mages pleasuring the elf, flipped Fenris onto his stomach, and buried himself to the hilt. The slave gritted his teeth against a cry of pain as the magister pumped ruthlessly into his body. Encouraged by the group, the mage gripped Fenris' hips and came with a cry. His cock was immediately replaced with another, and again Fenris was pounded without mercy until the magister sprayed inside him.  
  
Intoxicated and overwhelmed, Fenris knew only the pain and pleasure forced onto him by the maddened mages. He rode and was ridden, sucked and was sucked. Hands caressed his limbs as others grabbed at his torso. His tongue lapped at breasts and at sacs whenever his mouth wasn't dominated by an insistent kiss or a thrusting erection. His markings flared bright with each orgasm the mages drew from his shuddering body, and darkened as cock after cock forced its way deep within his battered passage.  
  
Only when dawn glinted through the dining hall windows did the mages begin to retreat. They departed silently, gathering their clothing around them as they nodded thanks to their host. Fenris was left panting on the chaise, covered head to toe in semen and trying not to let emotion overtake him. These nights left him utterly drained, but he could not allow his master to see such weakness.  
  
Still fully clothed, Danarius gently raised Fenris to his feet. The elf staggered with pain and stiffness, but his master steadied him with a strong arm and a quick spell. In this way, Danarius guided his slave to his bathchamber. Fenris' mind calmed as his master laid him in the bath, disrobed, and joined him.  
  
"My warrior. My prize. Such a good boy tonight, Fenris." Danarius crooned as he bathed the filth from the elf's body. A gentle spell easily cleaned the semen from within Fenris' body, and another soothed the bites and bruises he'd sustained from the crowd. A final spell helped Fenris walk to his master's bed, where he collapsed among the pillows. The last thing he felt that night was Danarius' body as it moved within him, the comfort and care reminding the elf that his only hope of pleasure without pain lay in obedience to his master's will. Relieved of pain and of duty, Fenris fell into a deep sleep as his master spilled inside him.  
  
***  
Fenris was jolted back to the present by a sharp kick in the shin. “Hey! Are you in?” Isabela asked. “From the way you’re playing, I’m not sure if you’re awake, but I’m happy to take a sleepwalker’s coin.”  
  
Fenris blinked quickly and tried unsuccessfully to remember how his coin purse had lightened so significantly. He didn’t bother looking at his cards before preparing to make his bet when Hawke strode into the tavern, shaking water from his hair. The boy to whom Varric had so furtively spoken slunk back into the tavern right behind Hawke, and he now clutched a small coin purse. Fenris shook his head, but didn’t mention what he’d noticed.  
  
“It’s raining so hard we’ll all drown before morning. So someone had best help me take my mind off our impending doom.” Hawke grinned as he plunked into the chair next to Fenris. Never shy, Hawke kissed Fenris’ mouth and wrapped his arm around his lover. “Am I too late for this round? Looks like you need a lucky charm.”  
  
“Damn right he does,” Varric quipped.  
  
“Seriously,” piped in Isabela. “And tell him to shut up about Tevinter, will you? I hear slavery’s bad. Did you know that?” Fenris crossed his arms at her sarcasm, but the smile playing at the corner of his mouth silently thanked Isabella for the tension-dispersing jest.  
  
Hawke pulled him closer. “Leave my Fenris alone. You take his coin and then his pride?” Hawke caught Fenris’ eye and grinned devilishly. “Well now we have to embarrass them both. Prepare for poverty, my friends!”  
  
A colourful joke from Varric, a snort from Isabela, and the game was on. Hawke brought his head close to Fenris’ ear. “Alright?”  
  
Fenris nodded and leaned into Hawke’s embrace. “Alright. But if those two sitting at the table next to us get loud again, I’m taking them outside.”  
  
Hawke assessed the Tevinters, now slurring and swaying as they tried to grab each server who passed. “Only if I can come, too. But after this hand. Let’s win back your dignity.”  
  
Fenris turned his attention to the bets. He decided to go home with Hawke when they were through. Perhaps he could find out whether candlelight and silk could be put to good use.


	5. Episode 5 (Part 1/2)

Danarius sighed as he rolled off his slave, who lay sated on the softly rocking bed. They'd embarked for Seheron two days prior, and Fenris hadn't been permitted to leave his master's cabin since departing. Sex took Danarius' mind off the rolling waves and the ship's constant motion; he'd have rather died than admit his fear of the water. Fenris shared no such fear; his mind was on the vipers' nest waiting at their final destination. A never-ending battlefield on which peasants eked out a living between the Tevinters and the Qunari. A battlefield on which Fenris would defend his master from harm. The very real possibility that he would die on Seheron had intruded into Fenris' thoughts many times over the past few weeks as preparations were made. Now, desperate for clean air, food, and a rest from his master's rutting, death didn't seem like a horrible alternative. At least he'd die in battle against Qunari, fighting a worthy opponent. His other potential options were bleaker: die from poison Hadriana slipped into his dinner; die screaming on Danarius' worktable if he decided to "improve" the markings; or, worst, outlive his usefulness to his master and either be killed for his skin or be sold and worked to starvation. Elven slaves didn't die of old age.

The two men lay in silence in the stuffy cabin until a knock on the door interrupted their stupor. Fenris answered the rapping and admitted a servant bearing Danarius' evening meal. The ship's captain clearly wanted to remain in the mage's good graces, as the tray brimmed with meats, cheeses, and vegetables. Even a bottle of wine was provided. Fenris' stomach growled and he tensed his muscles to quiet the rumbling. If the past nights were to be repeated, most of the food would be sent back to the galley, where it was likely fed to the cats or even thrown overboard. Danarius simply didn't consider that his slave needed to eat. At the manor, others had been in charge of feeding and watering the slaves. Here, Fenris had made do with the sips of wine his master had granted him.

Danarius remained quiet as he ate, his mind on their voyage and its destination. Only when he'd eaten his fill did he seem to notice Fenris was still in the room. He beckoned to the slave, who came to him willingly, and then sat the naked elf in his lap. Again, Fenris' stomach growled. Danarius raised an eyebrow.

"Right. Usually someone feeds you. Are you hungry, pet?"

Fenris couldn't meet his master's eyes, but nodded. "Forgive me, Master."

"Always such a good boy, to dare not request something from your master. But you need your strength to face the insanity we'll find in Seheron. Here." Danarius dipped his fingers into a bowl of stewed meat and brought a cube of beef to Fenris' mouth. "Eat."

Fenris tried to maintain his dignity as he bent his head forward to meet his master's hand. Once the food touched his lips, he couldn't contain his pleasure. He smiled as the tender meat melted in his mouth, and softly sucked the juices from Danarius' fingers. "Thank you, Master."

"Hardly enough for my warrior. Here, Fenris," Danarius again dipped into the bowl and fed the slave with his hands. Again, Fenris devoured the food like a starved dog; again, he lapped the gravy from his master's hand. 

When the meat had disappeared, Danarius plucked a ripe strawberry from the platter and placed it in his own mouth. Fenris took the cue eagerly. His lips descended on his master's and his tongue penetrated Danarius' mouth as it searched for the sweetness inside. Danarius grasped the back of Fenris' head and pulled him into the kiss as his tongue pushed the berry into Fenris' mouth. Red juice streamed from their lips as the fruit was crushed. 

Danarius broke the kiss and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The other hand reached again for the platter, and seized the small pot of honey that accompanied the fruit. His hunger satisfied, Fenris flushed with anticipation. He watched his master raise the honey and tip the pot forward; the liquid drizzled onto the mage's hardening cock, over his sac, and onto his thighs. Without being asked, Fenris crept forward and lowered his head to his master's groin. His mouth hovered a breath above Danarius' groin as he whispered, "Please?"

"Yes, pet. Eat your fill." Permission given, Fenris lowered his head further and began slowly licking the honey from Danarius' body. He rested his hands on his master's hips as his tongue stroked Danarius' thighs and worked its way north. One by one, he suckled the master's testicles into his mouth and rolled his tongue around each. As he worked the soft, heavy sac, Fenris thought only of the delicate sweetness in his mouth and of the feeling of his master's seed leaking from his body. Even as he moaned at the thought of being filled yet again, Fenris felt semen from their earlier lovemaking ease from his passage, lubricating it for another penetration. 

Danarius groaned with pleasure as Fenris moved his attentions to his cock, now hard and pulsing with desire. The elf swirled his tongue around the shaft, removing honey with each pass, before slowly bobbing his lips along the head. Pearls of pre-cum mingled with the honey as he prepared and pleasured his master's body, and Fenris eagerly licked the bitterness along with the sweetness. 

With each dip of his head, Fenris took more of his master into his mouth, then into his throat. All gag reflex had been trained away years before, and he squeezed Danarius' cock with his throat until he had to release him to take breath. Danarius grasped Fenris' hair and rocked his hips until he threatened to spill down the slave's throat. Danarius hated to waste his seed in Fenris' mouth; he loved nothing more than to inseminate the elf's body and then watch the liquid trickle from Fenris' hole to slicken his buttocks, sac, and thighs.

Danarius cupped Fenris’ jaw and gently raised his head. “Come to your master’s lap, Fenris.” The elf complied, knelt straddling his master’s thighs, and slowly began to lower his body onto Danarius’ erection. When the tip of Danarius’ cock pressed into the slave, Fenris winced and uncharacteristically hesitated. Days of near-constant pounding had lubricated and stretched him, but had made his entrance sore and sensitive. Fenris gritted his teeth and prepared to settle onto his master’s body. But before he could lower himself further, a firm grip on his hips halted Fenris’ movement. Danarius shook his head. 

“No pain in my bed. Have you been suffering like this all day, pet?”

Fenris shook his head. “Just a little, Master. It’s...it’s worse now. I was numb for a while, but now that we’ve rested...it’s nothing, Master.”

Danarius brushed away the protest. He smoothly lifted the elf and laid him face-down across his knees. Fenris stiffened with pain as his master’s finger traced his hole. “Swollen, red, and stretched. Lie still.” Fenris felt a hand press against his lower back as a finger from the other hand carefully pressed inside him. Danarius chanted a quiet spell of healing as his finger probed deeper. When the digit reached Fenris’ prostate gland, the spell radiated pleasure through the elf. Fenris moaned deeply and squirmed in his master’s lap; his erection rubbed between his belly and Danarius’ thigh. 

His own cock still needing release, Danarius raised Fenris to kneel atop him once again. “Better?”

Fenris nodded breathlessly. “Much better. May I? Please?” Danarius nodded. Fenris shifted so his entrance rested on the tip of his master's cock. Slowly, but willingly, the slave impaled himself. Restored to comfort and pleasure, Fenris didn’t mind the familiar discomfort as the head of Danarius’ erection popped past his sphincter. The master rocked his hips gently as the slave descended. When the shaft was buried inside his body, Fenris slowly maneuvered his hips until Danarius’ erection rubbed against his gland. Both men slowed their movements as the elf was overcome by pleasure. Danarius revelled in the sight of his pet: head thrown back, eyes closed, markings throbbing with his heartbeat, cock swaying as he writhed in his master’s lap. 

Danarius again grasped his slave’s hips, this time to move Fenris up and down along his shaft. The elf submitted to his master’s will. The sensation of being filled and the knowledge that he was fulfilling Danarius’ desires both calmed and thrilled the slave. He relaxed into the master’s grasp and flexed muscles which pleasured the cock inside him. Fenris gasped as Danarius’ hand, now oil-slick, wrapped around his shaft and slowly pumped. He surrendered in body and mind, wanting nothing more than this room and this pleasure with a man who valued him.

Seeing that the elf was near completion, Danarius rolled onto his hands and knees, his cock still buried within his pet. Fenris relaxed and allowed his master to dominate. As with every time he’d lain his Danarius in his years of slavery, Fenris felt safest when covered by his master’s body and when submitting to his master’s desires. Danarius withdrew and smoothly ran his cock along Fenris’: a mage’s staff against a warrior’s sword. Fenris’ throat arched as he moaned, and his pleasure intensified as he felt Danarius’ tongue trace the markings on his neck. 

As Danarius ground his groin against the slave’s, Fenris surrendered the last of his control. He cried out as jets of cum spurted white across his stomach. As the elf came, Danarius thrust himself within Fenris’ body; only a few fluid pumps were needed to trigger his own orgasm, and seed gushed into the slave.

Again, Danarius rolled off his slave. Fenris lay quiet, panting in the dark. Danarius lay calm beside him, and Fenris paced his breathing to match his master’s. He stole quick glances at the mage lying beside him. Perhaps this journey wasn’t a death march after all. The days might be bloody, but the nights could be full of desire and fulfillment.

Bolder than he’d ever felt in his master’s bed, Fenris reached out a tentative hand toward his master’s chest. Perhaps he could touch Danarius, not as a slave pleasing his master but perhaps...perhaps as a….

Before Fenris made contact, Danarius threw himself out of bed. He sniffed and twisted his face in disgust. “You reek like a whore, Fenris. Get above deck and let the spray clean you off. And find somewhere to sleep tonight. I’m tired of you."

Fenris flinched like a kicked dog. Without looking at his master, he fumbled for his shift, quickly drew it over his head, and exited the cabin. He stumbled his way above deck on legs unused to the ship’s movement. Few crew members remained on deck in the darkness; watched only by the boy in the crow’s nest, Fenris threw himself against a railing and, exhausted, leaned toward the water. He registered the taste of salt as his shoulders shook and his throat clenched. There was spray on his face, wetting his cheeks.

***  
Fenris woke alone in the dark. With a cry of pain and frustration, he launched himself from bed. His markings flashed as he grabbed one of the few remaining breakable items in the mansion and threw it against the wall. As the room dimmed along with the marks, the indifferent walls seemed to close in around him. The smell of wine and corpses hung heavy in the air as always - the smell of his past since leaving Danarius on Seheron. 

Cursing and with tears streaming, Fenris threw his few belongings into a sack, hastily dressed, and slung his sword across his back. He stormed from the bedchamber and marched down the wine-stained hallway, brushing cobwebs from his face as he went. As he passed darkened chambers and destroyed parlours, each room beckoned him back, back into the memories whose power over him he could no longer tolerate. 

Although the grand staircase yawned behind him, Fenris did not look back as he flung open the mansion's front door. He left the door swinging on its hinges as he descended the steps and strode toward Hawke's manor. 

Somewhere deep, Fenris felt a chain snap.


	6. Episode 5 (2/2)

Fenris fell forward onto his elbows and knees, his hips supported by two cushions. The elf writhed against the pillow beneath his groin; even after days of near-constant sex, he was still easily brought to erection with a few whispered words and confident strokes. He shifted his knees apart to fully expose his entrance to the fingers which probed his depth. As the lubricated fingers stroked against his prostate, Fenris groaned and bucked against the hand inside him. His hips were grasped by unyielding hands and, with one stroke, the cock he desperately craved filled his body.

***  
The sun's first rays peeked through Hawke's bedchamber window, but it was clear the warrior had been up all night. Dressed only in a robe, Hawke sat on the edge of his bed sharpening his sword, lost in thought. When he saw Fenris standing in the doorway, the lines on Hawke's brow smoothed and the corners of his eyes rose for just a moment - until he noticed the elf's red eyes and the rucksack containing the few items Fenris actually cared about. If Fenris had that sack with him, something was very wrong. The whetstone dropped to the floor and Hawke opened his arms; Fenris strode across the floor and threw himself into Hawke's embrace. His tears of frustration had dried in the early morning breeze, and the rage that had driven Fenris from the manor seeped from him as he buried his face in Hawke's neck.

Hawke barely noticed how Fenris' armour scraped his chest and shoulders as he clung to him. "Hey...hey...you're alright." Hawke grasped the back of Fenris' head to hold him closer. "I'm here. You're alright."

As always, Hawke's hands, Hawke's voice, helped Fenris regulate his breathing and slow his racing heart. He closed his eyes and deeply breathed in the cool spring air wafting through the window.

"I won't go back to the manor. I can't."

Hawke stroked his lover's hair and kissed the nape of his neck. "You know you don't have to." Fenris pulled back from the embrace and rose to his feet. Silently, he unbuckled his armour and let each piece fall on the carpet. When he wore only his smallclothes, the elf climbed into his bed, wrapped the quilts around him, and turned onto his side to face Hawke. Hawke, too, slipped between the sheets and turned toward his lover.

Fenris studied Hawke's face - the concerned eyes, the nick on his chin where he'd cut himself shaving, the lips which were as quick to smile as they were to kiss him. There was no calculation in that face; there was no greed, no possessiveness, no twisted lust.

Fenris moved closer. "Tell me?"  
  
Hawke smiled and took Fenris' hand under the covers. "I love you."  
  
Fenris smiled, as he did every time Hawke told him the words he could never quite believe. "Why?"  
  
***  
The familiar burn barely registered as Fenris submitted to the body conquering his own. The man pressed himself against the elf and gripped Fenris tight as he pumped in long, even strokes. The intense physical contact drove Fenris mad - the chest against his back, the arms around his chest, the insistent mouth sucking at his neck as the elf was utterly dominated. Fenris' markings throbbed as he arched his back and begged, "Harder. Please...please...harder."  
  
***  
"Why?" Hawke frowned. "What do you mean why do I love you? Because you're...you. I love the way your calmness gets me through a fight. I love how your eyes look even greener when you smile. I love how you play with the dog when you think I'm not watching. And you're not bad in bed."  
  
Fenris smirked at the joke, but persisted. "No, Hawke. Why? Aside from crushing your enemies' hearts, I can't do anything for you that someone else couldn't. Anyone with decent training can swing a sword. You could have any man - any woman, for that matter. And that includes half the people we travel with."  
  
Hawke moved closer again, and took Fenris in his arms. "I don't want anyone. I want you. Your terrible attitude, your horrible trauma, all of it."  
  
Fenris was quiet for a while. The only sounds were the leaves rustling outside and their own breathing.  
  
***  
Fenris didn't resist the hands that grasped his hips and flipped him onto his back. In an instant, his calves were laid on strong shoulders and his mouth was probed by an eager tongue. Fenris panted between desperate kisses, not minding the rough stubble scratching his cheeks. He reached between his legs in an attempt to stroke himself to orgasm, but his wrists were clasped firmly and held above his head.  
  
"No. I want to make you cum. I'm close."  
  
Fenris nodded and wrapped his legs around the man moving inside him. He was rewarded with a low groan of pleasure and the deepest possible penetration. Fenris grinned; soon he would earn his reward.  
  
***  
Hawke broke the silence. "Let me take care of you?"  
  
Fenris nodded. relieved. Since he and Hawke had rekindled their relationship, Hawke had made only one real request of Fenris: that he allow Hawke to take physical care of him when he didn't have the mental energy to take care of himself. He hadn't eaten or bathed in days, and hadn't even noticed his own discomfort until now. He and Hawke left the bedroom together, hands clasped.  
  
Wrapped in their favourite robes, the two breakfasted on steaming eggs, bacon, and potatoes. Hawke did an impression of Isabella's attempt to flirt with an Orlesian merchant that made Fenris laugh three times - Hawke counted.  
  
Where food gave Fenris energy, the hot bath that followed pleasantly drained it away. He relented when Hawke insisted on scrubbing his back, and relaxed into the water until he felt himself slipping beneath the surface. The nights of poor sleep and excessive wine caught up to him as he stepped from the tub; momentary wooziness threatened to topple him, but Hawke steadied his arm and steered him back to bed. The smells of fresh sheets and clean skin were a balm to Fenris' mind, but one thought rendered sleep impossible. He turned to Hawke, who had begun to drift off as he ran his fingers through his lover's snowy hair.  
  
"You know I can't stay here. Even if you don't understand. I can't live here, Hawke."  
  
Hawke sighed and cupped Fenris' face. "Just as well. I made the decision. I'm going to talk to Orsino tomorrow. I've put it off too long as it is."  
  
Fenris studied Hawke's face. "You're sure?"  
  
"I'm sure things are coming to a head. Less sure of what will happen."  
  
Fenris was quiet for a moment. "When Danarius took me to Seheren, I didn't think I could possibly leave that island alive. Not because he was useless in battle - you saw he could fight. He just...didn't care about me. I was a piece of meat to him. A breathing lyrium-infused puppet he could use however he wanted. He'd have sooner grown wings and flown back to Tevinter than come to my aid when we were overwhelmed." Fenris reached to stroke the worried creases on Hawke's forehead. "I'm not concerned about tomorrow. Let the mages cast their spells and the templars swing their swords. I don't give a damn about either one. I'm with you."  
  
***  
The bedframe creaked as the last drops of semen were pounded into Fenris. The elf held still, patiently milking the softening penis inside him. He felt seed leak from his body as the man atop him withdrew, but barely had time to savour the sensation when his erection was engulfed by warmth. Fenris gasped as the sure mouth and skilled tongue stroked and suckled his cock. There was no playful teasing of the head or slow laps along his length tonight; with a moan, he came inside the hungry mouth and revelled in his lover's involuntary gulping as he swallowed every drop.   
  
Spent, Fenris pulled the pillows from under his hips. He laid one under his own head and one under Hawke's. The two caught their breath and listened to the fire crackling in the hearth.   
  
"I think this is day four," Hawke remarked. "Whoever abandoned this cottage had no idea it'd become a den of wanton lust." He grinned and kissed the top of Fenris' head. "You're good?"   
  
Fenris nodded. "Fine. A double blow for the former residents, though, considering they likely fled because of your actions. The Battle of Kirkwall...Maker, they've already named it." He kissed Hawke's mouth before settling again. "I'm with you, Hawke. No matter what happens now." Fenris winced as he tested his rectal muscles. "But I need a break. I'll eventually need to ride a horse again, especially if the Chantry ever figures out where we are. Riding could be difficult if you've made me so sore I can't sit down."   
  
Hawke didn't hear him; he was exhausted, and now snored softly. Fenris shrugged and curled on his side, his head settled on Hawke's shoulder. Valued and loved, he too fell asleep. Dreamless.


End file.
